Tag: sexualities (Page 1 of 8)

I was recently answering a question in a queer poly FAAB/woman/feminine-oriented group I’m part of and thought it would make good blog fodder. I have a ton of posts I keep working on and meaning to finish, but keep putting off, so I figure I could slap this one up. I have no idea what my readership is like these days (not that there’s many of you since my writing gap has grown larger and larger), but I imagine this might not be new information. Oh well!

Question posed: What is your story with your sexual identity? What’s your relationship with being queer?

My post:
(tl;dr, early bloomer. much queer, but always awkward. so genderqueer. much kink.)

I had my first sexual experience around third grade with a female friend of mine at the time: kissing and rubbing our bodies, including genitals, against each other while sleeping over at each others houses. I fooled around with a few people in middle school and high school, had my first boyfriend in middle school, where we ended up in a polyish relationship where he was dating me and another girl for a period of time. We weren’t together for very long, but mostly because it was middle school and less because of the poly. I had a few girls who were maybe sort of almost girlfriends, but who were mostly friends who were girls that I made out with or had sex with once and not really ever again. I was horribly awkward and shy and I didn’t know how to approach girls, or anyone for that matter. I did experience some discrimination and uncomfortableness from others because of my visible and unapologetic queerness, but I was used to being othered for most of my life anyway.

Being attracted to people regardless of gender was always a non-issue for me to some extent. When I learned the term bisexual around 6th grade I began calling myself that and coming out as bisexual, which lead me to being the President and Co-founder of my high school’s Gay/Straight Alliance (as they were commonly called then), and also lead most of the people in my school and my hometown thinking I was a lesbian. I came out to my mom somewhere around freshman year of high school and her response was: “oh, I thought you were a lesbian.” A non-issue. My older sibling identifies now as queer, as I do, and they were where I learned the term bisexual from all those years ago.

I discovered the concept of bdsm/kink around 6th grade as well, having had fantasies about it for as long as I’d had fantasies. That became and has always been a central part of my sexual identity as well. I first believed I was strictly a Submissive or Bottom, but have been identifying as a Top and Switch for the last seven or so years now.

I started playing consciously with my gender in high school as well, probably also leading a number of people to assume queerness from me (even though the conflation of gender and sexuality is inaccurate and not useful for anyone, imo, it is unfortunately pervasive, and gender does in fact tie in to sexual identity, since sexual identity is based on it, e.g., one cannot be homosexual or heterosexual without having a gender to base the homo or hetero aspect of that identity on. But, I digress). My genderfucking once included a fellow student that I didn’t know once asking me if I was a guy in drag (I was wearing a wig and “feminine” clothing). This was highly amusing to me, even though it was obviously meant to be offensive (I didn’t take it that way, though). I also did a lot of acting all through school (elementary-high), and basically during the plays in 6th and 7th grades I went through a phase where I only wanted to play guys (a big part of that, I think, was that I was always taller and larger than all of the girls and most of the guys in my age range at the time, but also probably something else).

I started identifying as queer around when that became common language, somewhere around 2005ish while I was in my undergrad in Gender Studies. I started identifying as genderqueer around the same time, though I had played with gender for long before that.

Onyx and I met when I was 19. It was my first real long-term relationship, and we have been together ever since. We’ve been poly since we met, and I had a long-distance relationship at the time we met as well, and that was also a non-issue. I wasn’t familiar with the term polyamory when we got together, but I knew the concept of an open relationship and was happy to expand my identity to include poly as well. We were only theoretically poly/monogamish for the first few years of our relationship, though.

For the first few years of our relationship I also had a difficult time with him being cis male and us being in a seemingly heterosexual relationship. I was not used to experiencing heterosexual privilege and it was really uncomfortable for me. I felt invisible and ignored by both queer and non-queer communities and people. I began feeling uncomfortable in queer circles and queer community because of my primary partnership with a cis guy, and I experienced individuals change their way of relating to me once they found out about that. I had my first serious girlfriend when I was 23; an attempted triad with me and Onyx that ended horribly. We were mostly monogamish for a while after that, until over a year ago when I met Rose.

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Once upon a time Onyx and I were running late for a queer play party. We were making our way out of the elevator of our building on the ground floor when I saw something slip from under his jacket and slide neatly through the thin crack between the elevator and the main floor. It was one of our toys: the wicked, short, thin, red acrylic cane. While it was not my favorite cane its sister cane—a thicker and longer red acrylic cane—had also recently been taken from us as well, it was stepped on and snapped during a passionate moment. I was quite sad since this brought our total cane count down to simply two.

It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if we only had two paddles or crops or straps, in fact we only have two or less of each of those, but canes are a different story. I love canes. As you probably figured already from the title of this post, canes are my favorite toy to play with, both as a Top and a Bottom.

I have written about canes before for Kink Academy, so if you’ve been following my posts you have already read about my love of canes once, but it bears repeating again. Why? There are more wonderful caning videos to talk about now, of course! […]

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Life is moving along at such a pace lately that it’s difficult to keep up with writing about all the things I want to write about. Not that I’m complaining, really, but this hasn’t happened to me in a while. Nearly a month ago Onyx and I attended a Living Love Revolution Aphrodite Temple. It’s all been a bit of a whirlwind, but in a wonderful way. The temple was absolutely phenomenal and transformational in so many ways.

This was a two-day retreat, essentially, at a remote location outside of Seattle. There were somewhere between twenty and thirty of us there. We had been told about it before we went, of course, including having some of the activities described in a good amount of detail, but I don’t think either of us were really prepared for everything that occurred. In a good way.

I could feel a very noticeable energy shift in me from before the temple to after. I have felt far more open as well as more radiant, which often go hand in hand. I feel less timid about expressing myself however feels authentic for that moment, less anxious about what other people will perceive and more content with what I have to offer. I feel in touch with love, which was at least part of the point.

There was great emphasis on embodiment, autonomy, safe consensual touching, and getting what you need. It is all about getting your needs met and learning about how to ask for those things you need. It is about finding the beauty in yourself and everyone around you. It is also about Aphrodite, of course, and all these activities just aid in connecting with her more.

While we were there I felt somewhat disconnected with Onyx, or like I had to disconnect with him in order to be seen the way I wanted to. It’s something I didn’t experience at the play party we went to on March 4th 1, which says to me I may getting through that little blockage. It’s something I’ve held on to for quite some time, this notion and worry that I will be seen as less queer because I’m with him, when that’s really just silly. I have tried not to be ruled by it, but at the same time I have been.

I wasn’t opposed to the disconnection in the moment, exactly, but I saw it as a necessary part which irritated me. I think going through the experience of the temple, though, allowed me to let go of that and be able to connect with him more ever. I’ve been allowing my shy masculinity to shine through ever since I wrote about it and more and more since the temple itself. I think I experienced what it was to be seen for me in the moment which has just made me want to be seen like that more often.

I also didn’t experience any jealousy or anxiety about being disconnected and each of us being touched and caressed2 by other people, which was fantastic. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do with that going into it. It was remarkably easy, and though we were in the same room we rarely interacted with each other during the activities. I’m excited to see what happens in the future.

I loved it so much I’m now in the Priest/ess training program for it and Onyx and I will be going to the one being held in April. I want to go to the July and November ones as well, and would be surprised if that didn’t happen. I’m beginning to work quite closely with the high priestess, not just for the training but doing classes and workshops with her as well as working on websites for her. This is only the beginning.

yet another thing I should write about… that one might fall through the cracks, though. We’ll see. [↩]

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He straddles my waist where I lay and pins my arms against me. I’m still able to squirm but know that even if I tried to get free it would be difficult. Not that I want to try. I look up at him, helpless beneath him, and he just grins and slaps first my left cheek and then my right. I whimper my false protests as my cheeks turn rosy red and sting from the impact.

The same hand connects with each of my breasts in turn. I squirm and try to cover them but am unable to free my arms. He likes me like this: helpless, unable to stop his ravaging of my body as he chooses. I like me like this: helpless, without the ability to move or cover myself, knowing my protests will not stop him.

A few more slaps and he moves to unzip his pants, not bothering to take off his clothes or my own as he rises up a bit. He shifts enough to let my hungry mouth find his cock, or for him to shove it into my mouth. They both happen simultaneously. I try to move my head as best as I am able but for the most part he is just fucking my face. Yet he’s not just fucking my face, he’s telling me through his actions that I am his for the taking, and I’m lapping it up.

It doesn’t take him long to lean against the wall behind my head and really start moving his hips up and down, his cock gliding in and out of my wet mouth.

Occasionally as he fucks my face he presses all the way in until his balls hit my chin and I have difficulty breathing. Sometimes he pinches my nose shut when he does this. I fight my gag reflex for as long as possible before my throat contracts around his cockhead in the way I know he enjoys. I gag once and then twice at the minimum before he lets me breathe again.

He’s usually gracious and gives me a few breaths to recover with after gagging. I sometimes cough or sputter but always move my mouth toward his cock soon after, taking the initiative in a way even as I’m still trapped beneath him. Most often he will utilize this moment by slapping my face, or playing with my breasts or nipples.

Sometimes he will come in my mouth like this, but this time he moves down between my legs which spread easily for him and he slips his cock into my cunt, made wet from his rough treatment. My throat lets out a moan as I move to meet his thrust as best I can. He takes me effortlessly, occasionally grunting his own pleasure but mostly staying silent as my own sounds fill the air.

We move together for what seems like forever, I clench myself around him as he drives in and out of my wet cunt. I am able to hear my wetness with every movement, the realization of which makes me blush internally, my face already flushed from the activity. He moves my legs so they are up straight against him, my feet on his shoulders, changing the angle so his cockhead hits my g-spot perfectly. My moans change and hands start gripping the wall behind me for support.

Suddenly he pulls out and pushes my legs to the side, guiding me onto my knees. I catch a glimpse of his face which is devoid of expressive emotion. He is at once distant from me and present with me. He is treating me like his fucktoy and I am more than happy to receive it. I quickly move into the right position, backing my hips up against him until his hardness slips inside me again and he continues fucking me with renewed fervor.

I am in heaven for the next few minutes as his cock continues to stimulate my g-spot, the familiar feeling welling up in me, so akin to needing to pee yet not the same at all. I brace myself against the wall again as his movements become even more demanding, shoving my body forward with each thrust. I let my body move with the force of him while also pushing back. His hands are on my hips both to stabilize himself and to guide my movements, a constant reminder of his control.

He starts grunting even more, almost growling as he nears his orgasm, focused on taking his pleasure out on me, letting me feel the depth of his lust for me as I absorb it all into my being.

I am His in this moment, completely and utterly.

Soon he lets out a loud growl as he begins to come. I can feel him exploding in me and make sure to squeeze my cunt muscles tight around him, my feet move to hook around his shins as he kneels behind me, a small gesture.

Once movement stops we both pant for breath and he rolls us over onto our sides. Our clothes still separate our flesh from each other in most places. I can feel the roughness of his jeans against my ass.

Spooning, he wraps an arm around me, the other serving as my pillow. My hand entwines with his and my legs slip between his. My ankles rest on his shins. I am enveloped by him even as he is still enveloped by me. I am again trapped by his limbs, this time helpless against the love and comfort he provides.

I’m mildly bummed/surprised that there are no examples of the overlap of “BDSM Play & D/s Non-monogamy” with “Polyamorous relationships” in a similar manner to “This is my wife, her boyfriend, my boyfriend, and our girlfriend. Her husband will be joining us later.” But, of course, he can’t please everyone and there is already a ton of options up there and, no doubt, many more that aren’t represented. Like the Human Sexuality Map it’s not perfect, but it’s still pretty awesome.

Click the image above for a larger view.

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My mother has been visiting for the last little over a week. She’s been staying in the living room of our tiny one bedroom apartment which means Onyx and I really have only had sex once in the last little over a week. I would say this is quite less than usual, though our number and frequency varies from time to time depending on how busy we are etc. Last night especially I was ready to about jump him, however. Today she is heading East to visit family over there. A text message exchange from earlier today:

Onyx: Is your mom heading to PA today?

Me: I believe she is, she hasn’t left quite yet. I would very much like some rough sex when she is gone. ;D

Onyx: I was just thinking about slappin’ you around a bit.

Me: Excellent. I love when we are on the same wavelength! :D

The minute she was gone I went into our bedroom where he was taking a nap and proceeded to wake him up with kisses and a blowjob, or facefucking, whichever you would prefer to call it. That is, I started the action but he quickly took over leading the movements of my head with his hands usually via my hair and including the occasional slap on the cheek. After a bit of this he quickly guided me over and down onto my stomach and pressed my head and chest into the bed, easily sliding into me and pinning me down as he began to fuck me. Needless to say, I was happy.

His hands played with my head a little: he pulled my hair, he slapped my cheeks, he slipped his fingers into either side of my mouth and held my mouth open, he covered my mouth and nose so I couldn’t breathe. All of this while continuing to pound into me as I lay trapped beneath him, as I moaned and tried to thrust back with my hips as best as possible–though that wasn’t too possible. He then took each of my wrists and brought them behind my back, pressing down again to keep me against the bed and fucking me with extra vigor until he came inside of me.

We lay there, both working on catching our breath before rolling over, snuggling, kissing, exchanging “I love you”s. Soon his fingers were on my clit with his other hand in my hair. We kissed and I panted and squealed and moaned my way to four or so most delicious orgasms culminating in the strongest one last. I’ve just about gotten this coming on command thing down, though that’s another post.

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More thinking about my post Tired from the beginning of the month has lead me to this: if you don’t know, ask. Don’t ever be afraid to ask. While it’s not always enjoyable to me to explain how I identify to someone that doesn’t mean it’s not highly appreciated. I would much rather have an hour long conversation (or even five-minute) about my identities than have my gender, sexuality, spirituality, or anything else assumed. You know what they say about to assume…

For the most part I’m pretty open when asked a question directly. I don’t skirt around things and I will take a question at face-value and answer exactly what was posed. I might not offer up additional information, but I am not shy about answering questions when asked directly. While I don’t always enjoy talking about myself (I know, that may be hard to believe considering that’s most of what I do on this blog) that doesn’t mean that I would rather not be asked about something. If I can clarify something or explain something I am always happy to, as long as I have the time. I also try not to assume that the other person will know what I’m talking about.

This doesn’t mean I think they are stupid, but because I use terms in mostly academic ways and since I don’t know if they have read something I’m referencing in my identity or explanation I try not to make assumptions either way and opt to ask questions myself. “Have you heard of…”” “Have you read…?” etc. If not I try to explain as fully as possible, and even if so I often will still mention some of the basic ideas of what I am referencing to make sure we are on the same page. I do not assume anyone is on the same page as I am, but that doesn’t mean they are not as smart as me or any other nonsense like that. Knowledge on one specific subject has nothing to do with intelligence.

Specifically what I was referencing in Tired had to do with two types of people. People with whom I have had conversations regarding identity who then turn around and seem to ignore everything I have expressed about my identity regardless. Or people assuming they know my identity without asking or having a conversation about it. It is difficult for me in either of these situations to come out and say “I don’t identify that way.” I’m just not a confrontational person and it is often difficult for me to assert my identities. I realize not being able to do that is my problem, but I do think that making assumptions about someone else’s identity is never a good idea. Similarly, disregarding a conversation about an identity is also not a good idea.

It’s hard work to have identity conversations in general. I realize this. It’s difficult to ask someone a question about their identity, you can’t always know how that question will be reacted to. Just keep in mind that when you ask make sure to ask something regarding identity rather than pinning an identity to it already such as “how do you identify?” versus “are you a [insert identity here]?” You can use specific terms such as “What is your gender identity?” “What pronoun do you prefer?” “What is your sexual identity?” as well, though the slightly more open-ended “how do you identify?” may get you the widest variety of options.

Please, ask questions, ask clearly, ask for definitions of things if I or someone else uses a term in a way that is unfamiliar to you. Don’t be afraid to ask for clarification. It is far better to ask than to assume. While there may be the occasional person who is offended that you would ask or who doesn’t think it is any of your business that doesn’t mean everyone would be. That said, also think about what you are asking and of whom. Should you be asking complete strangers about what genitals they have (though this isn’t the same as gender identity discussed previously) or who they like to fuck? Maybe it is, depending on the context of wherever you are at the moment, but maybe it’s not. Be smart about it, segue into it, make sure it is appropriate, but don’t be afraid to ask if you sincerely want to know and don’t.

Similarly, if you identify with something out of the norm please don’t scare people away from asking questions, if they’re asking that’s at least a step above assuming your identity and questions are an excellent time to educate them and open their minds. Who knows what kind of chain reaction you might set off. If they ask in an inappropriate way then tell them so politely and educate them as to how to ask in a better manner next time. I can’t say I’m perfect at this, but I’m trying.

It is not easy on either side of the conversation. Sometimes I just wish I could fit into societal standards in one way or another and not have to worry about things like this, not have to figure my identities out in order for me to enjoy them and understand them. I get tired of explaining the same thing over and over to the same people, sometimes I’m tired of explaining in general even to new people who are genuinely interested, but that doesn’t mean I would rather not be asked. I’m glad to challenge normalized ideas and maybe, just maybe, open a mind or two.

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Since I’ve been back from Juneau my number of sex partners has increased by four. This may not seem like a lot, but it’s about a thirty-three percent increase from my previous number (assuming I’m doing my math correctly). The small amount of casual sex I had before Onyx and I got together was minimal and done so out of a place of loneliness and depression, but this has been done out of a place of joy and openness. Even so I’m not having the best time with it.

Two of the four new partners were spur-of-the-moment one-time deals, people I didn’t really know and knew there wouldn’t be much chance of anything further developing. For one of the two I thought maybe there would be the possibility, but that was quickly nullified. Neither of these are sitting well with me.

The other two are a couple, I’ve written about them before. They are friends, continue to be friends, and the possibility for more fun is there. There is no awkwardness or uncomfortability, it’s just the way it is. I have no problems with this.

I have always been drawn to the idea of having casual play with friends and I’ve often fetishized the idea of sex with anonymous strangers, but the reality of the latter is not sitting as well with me.

I’m more than a little bummed that of the four sex partners three are male and one is female, but I also find that I tend to be more romantically interested in females and physically interested in males, that’s just how I’ve always been. I enjoy sex with everyone, don’t get me wrong, and I’m generally more physically attracted to females and transpeople than males but I’m also far more timid and reserved when I’m actually interested in someone.

While, as I mentioned, I’ve had some casual sexual encounters before pre-Onyx they were few and far between and usually circumstances of the internet and not really all that satisfying. These new experiences were all enjoyable but have left me unsettled. At the same time I’m drawn to the idea of the casual hook-up. Of the two one-time-only encounters one has turned out well and the other is a little awkward, and I do wonder if the awkward one were to be defeated perhaps that would put a better light on the entirety of casual hook-up-ness.

This is still a work in progress, so perhaps simply more research is needed before I can have a fully formed opinion.

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Tomorrow (or today for some of you–June 6th) is International Cane-A-Slut Day, pretty much purely because we have decreed it to be so. The idea was Onyx’s originally and it was supported by @Saynine, @Mindcryme, and myself. When reminded of it a few days ago I decided I would make a webpage, twitter account, and tumblr for it and start promoting it all over. So far it’s worked.

I created a FetLife event page for it as well, which has (currently) 28 people attending and 13 people maybe attending, which is pretty good for something that I started putting out there two or so days ago. It helps that it’s not something people have to “go” to, but something we all can do in our own homes (or wherever you choose to participate).

It’s pretty much just pure silly fun, and Onyx is endlessly amused that I took his half-joking tweet and turned it into a reality. When talking to a friend about it I mentioned making a website for it because “that’s what I do” and I realized that is very much the case. I get a good idea (or take a great idea from someone else) and turn it into a project. While this one doesn’t take up a lot of time like some otherprojects of mine it’s just a fun annual event for one and all. Already planning for next year

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There are times when I can’t escape from want. Want perpetuates want until all I can think of is taking or being taken. Lately it’s been the latter. The most mundane movements crackle with the electricity of my desire for it. With each moment want increases exponentially until it consumes my entire being and I feel my body begin to sing with it, unsure if anyone else can sense the desires within me threatening to explode.

Every movement of my lips makes me think of cool steel being placed between them, forcing them open a little to wide, almost painfully, after not too long my jaw beginning to ache. My mouth open and available for use or just for amusement as I am unable to contain the spit dribbling out onto my breasts. Or I think of a hand covering my mouth, pinching my nose shut, controlling my breath and stealing my air, not letting me breathe for just a little longer than I think I can handle before releasing and letting me gulp for it, even my most essential of functions controlled.

My fingers lift up to absently run through my hair and suddenly I can think of nothing else but a hand gripping and pulling on the short purple mess, making my scalp burn. My head tingles with want and later, when I am alone, I will allow my digits to curl around those locks and tug, although the feeling is nothing like when the fingers aren’t mine.

Using my hands to gesticulate or type or simply any movement in which I become aware of them makes my wrists ache for want of the bite of rope or cuffs lining them. The bracelets I always wear feel heavy with my own perception as the pressure they place increases the want, and awareness of my wrists makes my attention also focus on my ankles. I want to be bound, helpless, enveloped by the power of my partner and trapped in that moment where all I can fixate on is the sensation. Maybe blindfolded, maybe not, but unable to see what is coming next and my entire body alive with anticipation.

Every time I shift my attention is brought first to my ass and then to my cunt, the attention itself enough to make my lips tingle and grow with want. I know that were I to sneak a finger into my core I would feel the hot wetness that is even now creeping out onto my underwear. I would feel my vulva puffy with want of use, my holes craving to be taken.

My ass, on the other hand, tingles with a different kind of want, aching for the smart sting of a cane, hoping to be bruised this time as bruising does not come easily. I want a hand, a flogger, a cane, anything that will make me quiver with desire and make my cunt that much more overtaken with want. I would close my eyes and imagine the pattern the glowing lines are making, imagine the perfectly lined angry and raised red marks against my pale skin.

I want the continual moments of perpetuation of desire to last forever, hanging in a state of anticipation that my mind or my partner has created. I want everything in those moments, my entire being overtaken with want and desire to be taken to a different state of mind. Power is a drug and I am an addict, but I will happily drown in my addiction so I may feel the want again and again. With a good partner our addiction feeds each other, my discomfort is our pleasure, my pain our high, the power exchange our masterpiece.